


Sight

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Bottom Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Canon Queer Relationship, Character Study, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, POV Outsider, Pre-Canon, Top Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:02:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25537762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: Booker walks in on Joe and Nicky. Sort of. Kind of like eavesdropping, only with more staring.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 65
Kudos: 780





	Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Booker is still an idiot, but, in this household, we love _our_ idiot immortal twats.

He finally stumbles upon them in the act as they are fleeing France the first time.

They are shacked up in a small cottage near the border, barely two rooms including the common area. Sebastien would have both expected and found natural that Andrée should take the only bedroom, but she efficiently and with utter finality leaves it for Joseph and Nicolas, which confirms an idea Sebastien has had since the start, one they have invited him to speak out on before and he hasn't dared think on for more than an instant at a time.

Andrée and he find mattresses and covers and the like in the common area. The kitchen is a summer kitchen about ten metres from the house proper, thus the room smells of nothing more than mothballs and dust and dried lavender. They will be required to stay there for only two days. It is nothing. She is often away on errands to secure them food and supplies and safe passage, her connections vast even in the French countryside, thus Sebastien remains alone that first night.

He wakes at an ungodly hour for no reason he can immediately discern. The moon shines too brightly through the window, and there are lines of light from the bedroom door.

Sleek as an animal in the night, he rises and makes his way to the crack in their door, candlelight shining beyond it, drawn closer by the sounds they make. His palm barely has to touch the wood before it shifts forward enough for his head to squeeze through.

He only sees the back of them. They are at it like dogs in the street. Sebastien can't look away for the life of him.

Their breathing is shallow and almost grotesque in their harshness. Two such beautiful people should never sound so ugly, but copulation is ugly and messy and every adjective Sebastien can think of to try to mentally quell the sudden tightness in his own smallclothes.

The rhythm is even like a metronome for a long time. He can't see much other than to know with absolute certainty that Nicolas has Joseph inside him, this is not a helping hand or convenient pair of thighs during wartime, this is a deep ache being filled.

Then, without any warning, they shift as one. Nicolas reaches back with one arm to sink his fingers in Joseph's hair, back arching, a heavy moan escaping him, and Joseph shakes himself like a bull, thick thighs straining, muscles bunching up and releasing. Sweat pours off him, hips working even harder than before, and it drips from his shoulders to gather at the small of his back before disappearing in the hidden places between his cheeks. Beneath him, Nicolas widens his legs farther and disentangles his hands from Joseph's hair and the back of his thigh to lower his torso to the mattress, and, when Joseph fucks inside with deep, short thrusts, he wails like a cat in heat into the bedding.

Sebastien can't watch any longer. From this position, he has a clear, only vaguely shadowed view between their legs. He wishes he could say he has no interest or curiosity in gazing on as Nicolas takes Joseph's cock or the way it stretches him or what it could look like to watch Joseph spill inside. Those aren't thoughts he wants to entertain.

Instead, he leaves the door as it is, fearful trying to close it might announce his presence. He makes his way back to his pile of blankets, carefully picks up the half-empty bottle of wine he abandoned earlier in the night, and downs it as quickly and quietly as he can.

He waits for sleep to take him, and it doesn't disappoint. In the morning, he will pretend he never saw a thing, and, unless they heard him, they will have nothing to throw in his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment and leave kudos, or just comment, or just leave kudos, or do neither. Whatever you're comfortable with. I'm just glad you're here. Please keep yourself safe out there. <3 <3 <3
> 
> Tumblr: [rhubarbdreams](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com/)


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